Affliction
by Pugsrawesome12
Summary: A very dark, kinda short chapter fic that was originally supposed to be a one-shot. The team notices that Ariadne hasn't been herself, and Arthur wants to find out why. There are soem mature themes. A/A, read/review.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I have no idea what unholy creature possessed me to write this, since I usually never write stories like this one. But for some reason I got this inexplicable urge, and I just couldn't resist. Maybe it's because I was listening to that song _Russian Roulette _(so beautiful, but so sad). Anyway, this story is pretty depressing, but I don't want to spoil the end for you, so I'll just warn you that if you're not into mega-depressing stories, then you probably shouldn't read this. Okay, it's not _that _depressing, but still. You've been warned. (BTW, I don't know why, but I would suggest listening to the song _Off With Your Head _by _Mz Ann Thropik,_ _Running Up That Hill _by _Placebo, _or _Russian Roulette _by _Rihanna _while you read this). I love reviews, PMs, anything like that. :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inception, or the lyrics I'm about to post below this

It doesn't hurt me.  
Do you want to feel how it feels?  
Do you want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me?  
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?  
You, It's you and me.

And if I only could,  
I'd make a deal with God,  
And I'd get him to swap our places,  
Be running up that road,  
Be running up that hill,  
Be running up that building.  
Say, If I only could, oh...

Running Up That Hill,

Placebo

* * *

Arthur could've sworn he was imagining it, but somehow Ariadne seemed different. He couldn't explain it either. It was like when someone asked you to define a word, and you knew what it meant, but somehow you couldn't put it into words, like _technically _or _emphasis_. But somehow he knew she was different. And oddly enough, it created a clawing feeling of distress in his stomach. He hadn't seen the petite architect in months, nearly a year, since the Fischer job. At that time, the original plan had been that she was just a temporary architect, a last-minute hire. She did have college after all, and she was considerably young to be involved in something as dangerous as shared dreaming. He had originally been somewhat against it when he first met her. He had honestly thought she was still in high school. But as he worked with her more, she proved her talent and ability as an architect. He knew in the back of his mind that she would someday return to shared dreaming. She wouldn't be able to resist it, now that she had gotten a taste of what it was like to do something so exhilirating, so dangerous. But somehow he still worried for her slightly.

"Ariadne, are you okay?" He found himself stumbling over his words slightly, something that he almost never did.

She looked up at him, her gently spiraling brown hair sweeping back slightly to reveal her cheekbones. Her small lips pulled back to a faint smile. "Um, yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

"Oh." He nodded, looking away.

There was something wrong with her. He couldn't place it, couldn't name it, but he knew something was wrong. It was so agonizing, the feeling of knowing but yet somehow not knowing, that feeling of something being on the tip of his tongue. He despised that feeling with a passion. It made him feel like he wasn't in control. And he despised that feeling even more. A blood-curtling, stomach-churning hatred. What was it about her that was out of place? She looked fine, other than the deep tinges of purple staining the normally fair skin beneath her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping. But that was characteristic of an architecture student. He was just worrying himself. But it was still something to keep watch over, since lack of sleep could also point to something far more deadly since she had been involved in shared dreaming.

* * *

The next few weeks went by, and he still knew that somehow something was wrong. It was that aching, gnawing sense of discomfort. He couldn't stand it. He wanted so badly to say something to someone, but somehow something was stopping him. Maybe it was the fact that in all honesty nothing seemed to be wrong with her. Her building had become even better than he ever thought possible. Every new dreamscape she created for the job continued to awe him in the way they contradicted the rules and conventions of reality. But there was still that tingling fear inside of him. He wasn't sure if Eames or Yusuf sensed it. Yusuf was too busy trying to create a new compound for their latest Extraction. Eames, when he wasn't learning about one of the mistresses of their mark which he would have to forge, was reminiscing almost nostalgically about the very girl who had introduced him to shared dreaming. It was only Cobb who also seemed to notice. His brown eyes seemed to watch her warily, also noticing also noting that there was something uncharacteristic about her.

Finally, Arthur got the courage to speak up.

"Cobb, is it just me, or does Ariadne seem different to you?" Arthur said, pressing his hands against the edge of the table and staring at Cobb.

His friend shot him a look of surprise, as if he were shocked to learn that he too had noticed something odd about Ariadne. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I have." He said, sliding his hands into his pockets and glancing at Ariadne, who was working on a sketch over at a table on the other side of the warehouse. "You should definitely keep an eye on her, even if it could just be nothing. This is too familiar, the way she seems different.

"What do you mean?" Arthur said quickly, though somehow, in the pit of his stomach, in the deepest, darkest depths of his mind, he knew.

Cobb pressed his lips together and looked at the floor with his hand clenched, then looked straight at Arthur. "She reminds me exactly of Mal when we got back from Limbo."

* * *

Ariadne quietly shut the door to her shoebox of an apartment and stepped inside, dull sheats of light streaming in through slits in the blinds of her windows. She sighed, and bit down hard onto her bottom lip, so hard she could feel the hard, chapped skin stinging in pain. It stung so much salty tears developed in the corners of her eyes and blurred her vision.

Oh, God. Another agonizingly painful day. Every day of her life had been slow and agonizing ever since the Fischer job. It was the emptiness she felt, the feeling of being so alone, so hopeless. She had been swallowed by an endless pit of sadness, hopelesness. At first, she had been just convinced it was a mild case of loneliness. But as time progressed, slowly, painfully, torturously, the depression didn't alleviate. Soon, life became like an invisible prison without bars. She felt like she was trapped in a box, a windowless, doorless box with no way out. On the outside, she had managed to maintain her normal facade, to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. When her mother called to check up on how she was doing, she always managed to sound perfectly happy, like a normal, sane twenty-two-year-old architecture student who was enjoying the beauty of Paris. But on the inside, there was a gnawing, icy pain that ate away at her every day. Sometimes she found herself lying on the bed, with her cold knees pulled up to her slowly receding abdomen, her trembling hands balled into fists and pressed against her painfully tightened chest, and her entire body convulsing violently as salty tears slid down her freckled cheeks. She would choke on her own tears for hours, praying for the pain to go away. The pain was so intense, so blinding and white-hot, she was still perplexed by how she had managed to pretend to be sane and happy for so long. She longed to see the beauty and sweetness of life again, to feel the exhiliration of happiness. Happiness felt like a distant, dissolving memory. Nothing int

And then she finally realized why she felt so empty...

She was living in a dream.

They had never awoken from the dream.

Somehow, someway, they were still asleep, probably lying in hospital beds with tubes and wires sticking out of their bodies.

And she needed to escape.

She needed to get out.

But she was scared. She was scared for some reason. Scared that maybe she wasn't living in a dream, that it was simply her mind playing tricks on her. But then she got scared that it was a dream, and that her "common sense" was just another way for her to stay trapped within the dream. Also there was the guilt. The guilt of knowing that even if she killed herself and was released from the imprisonment, there was still the guilt of knowing that the rest of the team would be trapped. EVen though she didn't know them that well, she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself. She wouldn't be able to live with the fact of knowing that she would be free, and Arthur wouldn't.

Arthur.

She hated herself for letting a simple, tiny kiss lead to a passionate, irrevocable love. A love for a man she knew would never love her. He had higher standards than her, he would never see her the way she saw him. He was elegant, classy, intelligent. And she was too young for him. She was just a petite, worthless architecture student.

Ariadne couldn't stand it anymore. The emotions, swirling within her. They were building up frighteningly and threateningly to explode at any minute. She ran to the the kitchen, a small, tiny kitchen with a dingy refrigerator covered in half-finished sketches of buildings. She grabbed the handle of a drawer and jerked it open, then started sweeping through it in search of something sharp, anything.

But all she was pens, pencils, markers, paper, and other useless paraphernalia. Her heart thumped against her tightened ribs painfully, and she rushed to the bathroom, where she jerked open another drawer, and felt warmth travel through her violently quaking body as she spotted exactly what she needed.

A razor blade.

Slowly, carefully, gingerly she reached for it, lightly pressing her twitching fingertips against it's smooth, pink surface. Her breath caught painfully in her throat as the consequences of her choice flashed through her mind. She couldn't believe she was doing this... All her life, she had heard about cutting. It sounded so terrifying. Yet now, it seemed like a sweet release. She wouldn't kill herself yet, she wouldn't awaken herself just yet.

It would be too blunt.

No.

She would slowly ease herself into it, she would accustom herself to the physical pain. This was different from normally killing herself in the dream world. She was going to awaken herself from a dream that she had taken on as her own world, and so had Eames, Cobb, Yusuf, and Arthur. Maybe she would be able to save them, too.

Ariadne kneeled down, not caring about the agonizing pain and sharp pressure that shot through her knees as she pressed them against the tile floor. She inhaled, closed her eyes, and dragged the razor against her arm.

Sweet Release.

* * *

I decided to go ahead and make this a two-shot, and the second part should be up soon. Tell me what you think, I love reviews almost as much as I love Joseph Gordon-Levitt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Alright, here's part two of the story. I might turn this into a short chapter story, though I'm gonna try and keep it as a two-shot. I accidentally published part 2 while it was still unfinished, but I think I managed to remove it, so sorry for the false alarm. Here's the complete version. I hope you like it. Pretty, pretty please review, with cherries on top. ;)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inception

Now it had become outwardly obvious that Ariadne had changed. Her skin had gone from fair to a sickly pale shade, and heavy purple bags hung under her red-glazed eyes, which were almost always downturned sorrowfully. Her small lips were chapped and peeling, sometimes raw with tiny patches of blood speckling them. He could tell she had lost weight by the eerie gauntness of her face, the hollowness of her cheeks. Eames and Yusuf had noticed now. Neither of them made any comments, but by their concerned glances and tentative body language around her, it was obvious.

She was deteriorating.

Fast

* * *

Ariadne stared blankly at her horribly ravaged body in the mirror. Tiny pearls of stinging water rolled gently down her abnormally hollow cheeks, leaving a salty, crusty residue on her sallow skin. She hated herself. Every inch of herself. All of it. She hated how stupid and fearful she was, how she was so scared to leave Arthur, even though she knew painfully well it wouldn't matter to him.

It wouldn't matter to anyone if she left.

In the dream world, or in the real world.

She knew she had to do it. She had to get it over and done with. Just a quick slit of the wrists, a pull of trigger, a jump off a ledge, and she would wake up from this horrible dream, back in the real world. But instead, she had to be a coward and find every possible excuse to postpone waking up. And now she had taken up this pathetic new way of consoling herself- injury.

It was forbidden, a taboo, a shame.

Voices inside her head shrieked desperately for her to stop, but it was like some other force had taken control of her. It was so strange. Before she had tried it, cutting was something she had heard of constantly, but she never thought she would do it to herself. Whenever she heard the stories of people who cut themselves, she felt a sympathy for those people, but also a horror of being trapped in a place like that. An invisible prison, a dark tunnel with no light at the end of it. Just bleak, hopeless nothingness. And now here she was, purposely putting herself through as much pain as she could. It was the only way for her to feel any sort of consolation. Whenever she hurt herself, the emotional pain, the guilt, the sadness, the hopelesness, it all went away. It was her own brand of anti-depressant, it was what she used to feel good. On one hand, she hated it. It was sinful and grotesque. Then the feelings would well up, all of them, the pain, the guilt, the horror, everything. And there would be nowhere for her to turn, no way for her to turn. Everywhere she looked, somehow she would be reminded of her shame. But still, there was no way for her to release all her emotions. They would build, and build, and build, until they were on the very brink of spilling over. She felt like she was literally going to burst. So she turned to her one form of catharsis available- hurting herself. Then she would feel better for a little while. But it was only temporary. And soon the vicious cycle began again.

Ariadne swallowed a hot, stinging gulp, and stared at her body. A plain, white bra held her B-cup breasts, which in her opinion were way too small. They made her look like a twelve-year-old. Everything about her looked like a twelve-year-old. She brushed back a limp, oily strand of hair and stared at the various scars that criss-crossed across her body.

Slender, wispy lacerations, their alarming bright red color standing out from the rest of her sickly pale skin like neon lights. And it wasn't just scars, either. There were bruises, also, smoky clouds of purple, blue, and black covering her body. And burns, reddish and circular. She had found that cutting wasn't enough. She needed more, she needed something better. So she tried other things- banging her arms and legs against blunt surfaces until they were so tender even the slightest touch would cause her to shriek in pain, lighting up her stove or oven and pressing her fingertips into the fire or against the scalding metal. And now, her latest new technique was using cigarettes. She would go to the nearest convenience store and buy two packs of cigarettes, then she would light them and crush them mercilessly against her skin.

It hurt so badly, yet oddly enough when she did it she became detached. All her emotions went numb, dissolved into a beautiful nothingness. In those few seconds where blood flowed, where her skin was scalded, she felt such a wonderful sense of peace she was unable to put it into words. But once it was over, they all came back, even worse than the last time. And she had no choice but to do it again.

She inhaled sharply and gently brushed a band-aid-wrapped finger over an unusually long scar that slashed across her stomach, starting at her pelvis and slicing all the way to her protruding ribs. It stung the moment her finger came in contact with it. But she didn't care.

She was only dreaming, after all.

None of it was real.

* * *

"What happened to your fingers, Ariadne?" Arthur inquired, gently reaching for her band-aid-covered hand before she swiftly jerked it away and shot him a look of hate, a face he had never seen on her before.

"I accidentally got them too close to my stove!" Came her brusque snap, but the melancholy look in her red-glazed, watery eyes told him that there was much more than what she was telling him.

* * *

"Ariadne, can I talk to you for a moment?" Professor Miles asked as she was quickly making her way towards the stairs with the rest of the flow of architecture students.

Ariadne paused, closed her eyes, and exhaled, knowing all too well what he wanted to talk about. She had never truly felt resentment towards the benevolent old professor, and if she had been in the real world she would have been horrified by her own thoughts. But this was just a dream, and he was just a projection. It didn't matter if she became angry at him.

"Yes?"

With a disappointed sigh that also hid a sliver of concern in it, he pulled off his glasses and stared her straight in the eyes. "Your grades have been dropping, Ariadne."

She exhaled and looked away to one of the large windows to her right, analyzing motes of dust as they floated aimlessly through the golden light spilling through the glass. Her swelling irritation at him began to manifest itself physically, taking the form of an itching, crawling feeling beneath her skin and an agonizing tightening in her chest. She pressed her teeth together until pressure began to build in her jaw, and then she pressed even harder, relishing the pain as it made the irritation and anger melt away slightly.

But not enough to make her feel better.

"What's going on? You're my best student." Professor Miles turned up his palms questioningly, genuine concern visible beneath his facade of disapproval.

She was definitely going to need some razors when she got home in order to cope with this.

"There's nothing going on." She mumbled, pressing her textbooks against her ribs until they ached.

God, lying to a projection was harder than she thought. They were so realistic it almost made her re-think her theory that she was in a dream. But it wasn't enough. The whole point of dreams was to make them feel like reality.

"Ariadne," He paused, his eyes roving down towards the papers piled on his desk momentarily. "I-I know when something's going on. It's not just your grades, you've completely changed."

The irritation was getting worse. It was becoming uncontrollable. She rolled her eyes, chewing on the insides of her cheeks in hopes it would be able to keep her calm until she got home. Which really, was pretty stupid, since it wouldn't matter what she did since it was only a dream. But it felt so real, she sometimes forgot the true reason of her sadness and just let it consume her, let it possess her like a demon. Besides, even if he was just a projection, he still would tell Cobb and Arthur about her behavior. And she couldn't let that happen.

"Ariadne, something is wrong." Professor Miles persisted.

She couldn't take it anymore. "I'm fine." She argued, and quickly ran to the stairs, ignoring the professor as he repeatedly called her name.

He was just a projection.

* * *

"I'm telling you, something's wrong with our little architect." Eames said with a shrug, leaning against the edge of a table.

For once, Arthur didn't feel a burning resentment towards Eames, but rather a comfort in knowing that someone else was seeing what he saw too. "I know, she's changed."

He stared down at his feet, clutching the rounded, plastic edges of the table. That all-too-familiar sense of not being in control had returned, after he had tried for so long to completely banish it. Every time he saw her, band-aids covered nearly every inch of her fingers, and she wore long-sleeves and jeans despite the fact that the weather was way too warm for her to be covering herself head to toe.

"Have you seen her fingers? They're covered in band-aids." Yusuf added, turning around to look at them.

Cobb crossed his arms and exhaled solemnly. "Miles told me her grades are dropping."

Maybe she was being abused.

Ariadne hadn't done anything to make them believe she had a boyfriend. Arthur had assumed she was single. But it was still a possibility. A possibility he hated to consider. The image of Ariadne being beaten ferociously by another man made him feel like there were insects crawling under his skin. And that made him realize something else, something he wasn't sure how he should feel about- he was developing feelings for Ariadne. It was somewhat understandable, she was undeniably beautiful, and from what he could tell she seemed like a nice person. But she was a co-worker, for one thing, and she wasn't even twenty-three. There was something about his feelings for her that had that evil sense of perversion, guilt, and taboo. It reminded him of that book, _Lolita_.

"I know it's usually better to stay out of each other's personal lives, but one of us needs to find out what's wrong with her." Cobb uncrossed his arms and shifted his gaze around the dimly-lit warehouse.

"I'll talk to her." Arthur volunteered.

* * *

She gently slid the razor blade across her goosebump-covered skin, gasping quietly and pursing her lips in a mixture of pleasure and pain as she began to press down. The intoxicating mixture of agony and pleasure sent tingling chills through her spine, her eyelids slowly falling until they were just about closed. The numbness began to take over, the sweet, lovely numbness.

The rapid convulsions of her heart began to melt into slow, monotonous beats. A melange of screams that filled her mind began to fade into harmonious silence. The juxtaposition of misery and bliss was intoxicatingly delicious. Delicious like a sinful dessert, sending an odd sense of harmony through her. It was an indulgence, a guilty pleasure. Every time she promised herself she would stop, yet she inevitably ended up doing it again. Her life had become a perpetual cycle of pain, pleasure, and guilt. The pain of her sadness lead to the pleasure of hurting herself, the pleasure of hurting herself lead to the guilt, and the guilt melted back into the all-too-familiar pain. And the cycle was repeated. Again, and again, and again.

Would it ever stop?

Would it ever end?

She opened her eyes, and stared down at her newest scar, a mark that would forever remind her of the invisible prison she was now trapped in. Every scar had a different story behind it, as did every burn and every bruise.

A ribbon of lustrous, scarlett liquid was slowly creeping down her arm towards her wrist. She began to return back to "reality", her agonizing, oppressive "reality". The numbness melted away, and she sighed, placing the blood-covered blade on her bathroom counter and standing up. Her gaunt, skeletal appearance had now become the norm.

No longer did she care that the team was horrified by how deathly she had become. It was all useless. All of it. She felt worthless, hopeless. She was falling, falling into a black, bottomless pit. Her entire life had become nothing more than pain, solved by pain, and resulting in more pain. It was all pain. She was a prisoner. A prisoner of her own mind. How do you escape your own mind? She knew that it was possible to lose her mind. But that wasn't the same as escaping it.

She quickly rinsed the open cut with peroxide, the hot sting of it sending sweet agony through her. Once she was done, she wrapped it up in gauze and put on a long-sleeved sweater, which rubbed against the rest of her cuts, bruises, and burns.

As she walked into her tiny living room, there was suddenly a sharp knock that made her entire body jolt and her muscles tighten. She held her breath, and looked at the door, feeling her stomach pulse fearfully. As her muscles loosened they began to feel like limp rubber bands.

"Ariadne, it's Arthur." Came a muffled, but familiar voice. "We need to talk."

* * *

_Okay, so this went from one-shot, to two-shot, to three-shot. What can I say? I tend to go with the flow with my writing, let my impulses take control. Part three should be the final part, but we never know I may decide to make it a bit longer, though probably not. Anyway, read it, tell me what you think of it, I love reviews._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Whoo! Chapter three! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or subscribed to an alert for my story, it motivated me. I have to warn you, I wrote this at 12:38 a.m. in bed, and i've only had like six hours of sleep, so I'm going a little crazy. I have to warn you, this chapter contains a mild sex scene. When I say mild, I mean there's really no descriptions, it's just kind of their thoughts on it afterwards. Hopefully this still qualifies as a T-rated story. Anyway, your reviews are always welcome!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Inception

* * *

Oh, God, she looked even worse than when he last saw her. Limp, greasy strands of hair hung pathetically in front of her skeletal face. She looked as if she had been crying intensely, her cracked and bleeding lips pressed together, patches of red clouding her the sallow skin of her face.

"W-what are you doing here?" The way she stumbled over her words in a timid, quiet voice convinced him even more that she was truly in need of serious help.

He looked down, unsure of what to say. It wasn't really that he didn't know what to say, he just didn't know how to say it. He was too shocked, too perplexed by how much she had changed in just a couple of months. He could still see faint traces of what was once the beautiful, bright face of a curious, intelligent architecture student. And seeing those traces, he began to hate Cobb for dragging someone as innocent as Ariadne into this. He had been angry at Cobb before. They were friends, but they weren't that good of friends. They had been on ends with each other before. But he had never _hated _him.

At least not until now.

For the first time ever, the name Cobb brought a repulsive, sickening feeling to him. It made him want to gag, it brought horrible, even somewhat murderous compulsions to him. Cobb had been so wrapped up with reuniting with his children, he had completely abandoned his morals and hired an innocent college student, despite the obvious risks. Cobb didn't care that introducing someone to the dream world at such a young age could result in something catastrophic. Cobb, too selfish to think about the well-being of others.

"I'll tell you if you let me come inside." He nodded towards her living room, clenching down his teeth in order to suppress his feelings of horror and protectiveness over her.

She stared at him, visibly chewing on the inside of her cheek, and finally stepped to the side, allowing him to step in.

Slowly, watching her as he did, he made his way into the dim living room. Unfinished sketches lay everywhere, piled on the coffee table or hanging off the side, even on the floor or thumb-tacked to the bland white wall. A couch that was a cream color he couldn't name was pressed against the wall, a small TV sitting across from it. A few pictures of family and friends hung on the wall, all of them portraying Ariadne when she was still innocent and not so... Well, not so different. Happier, in fact. When she was happier.

He sat down on the right side of the couch, Ariadne soon taking a seat on the opposite side.

"Can I, um, get you anything to drink or something like that?" She offered in a soft, timid voice, turning up her palms questioningly.

He shook his head. "No, no, it's fine."

The physical distance between them was... Awkard. It was like middle school all over again.

"So, why are you here?" She pushed a limp, gently undulating strand of hair behind her pink-tipped ear and looked at him expectantly.

He pressed his lips together and rubbed his hands together. "Ariadne, there's really no other way to put this."

Pausing, he glanced at her. She watched him with her red-veined eyes wide in expectation and wonder, but somehow he had a feeling that she knew very well what he was about to say.

"You-you've changed, since the Inception." He said slowly, unsure of whether or not he was explaining things the right way. "And the whole team has noticed, and so has Miles. He said your grades have dropped drastically. Normally, we try not to get involved to much with our architects, but we need to find out what's going on."

Pausing, he awaited her reaction.

Ariadne bit her lip, her face beginning to take on an angrier look, her lips and cheeks tightening as if she were gripping her teeth and her eyes narrowing. Finally, she replied, an underlying fierceness detectable in her voice even though she was obviously trying to remain calm. "How exactly have I changed?"

The mock ignorance that laced her voice was almost like a silent challenge to him, as if she were saying _Go on, try and convince me that I need help_. And it only convinced him even more that she was in a dire situation.

"Well, you've stopped taking care of yourself, for one thing." The way she watched him expectantly was almost unnerving, making him second-guess his words each time. "You seem quieter, almost depressed. And, of course, your grades have dropped."

Her lips pressed together tightly, and obvious effort to conceal her growing irritation. "Why does this matter to you? I'm still just as good an architect."

Now he had to be even more careful with his words. "Your grades say otherwise, Ariadne." He stated slowly, turning his eyes towards hers, which were narrowed and angry. "Just... Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on!" She persisted, speaking quickly and aggressiveness in her voice. "Cobb sent you over here, didn't he?"

"No, no. He didn't." He lied, keeping his voice calm and steady in hopes that maybe she would stay calm.

She groaned, sliding her band-aid-covered hands through her hair and clenching it with her fists tightly, so tightly it looked almost like she was hurting herself. "Just go Arthur, I know you're lying. There's nothing wrong with me!"

* * *

Anger was quickly overwhelming her brain, becoming so dominant that she could go ahead and slap Arthur right then and there and only realize what she'd done a second later. It was so tempting, so tempting that she didn't even have to think about it. She could feel the muscles in her wrists tingling with a desire to slap him.

The fresh cut on her arm was burning from being rubbed by the rough fabric of her sweater, but she was able to relish the pain, truly the only thing preventing her from unleashing her anger on the point man.

"Ariadne, just calm down. I never said that there was anything wrong with you." He looked up at her as she stood up, looking down on him. "I'm just trying to understand why you-"

She rolled her eyes, blinding fury swelling inside her. Blinding fury at his stupid ignorance, at his persistence. Blinding fury at herself, for being so pathetic with her attraction to him, with her petty little crush on him. She both hated him yet loved him at the exact same time, and the juxtaposition was agonizing. It wasn't a good juxtaposition, like pain and bliss, it was emotional pain, inner pain. Physical pain was good. Physical pain overwhelmed the emotional pain. She needed physical pain, it was a drug to her.

Arthur didn't understand.

He would never understand the emotional pain she was going through, he would never understand how physical pain was her antidote, her cure. How much she loved it. He didn't know what it was like to be surrounded by invisible, intangible walls, and bound invisible, intangible chains.

"Just get out of here!" She commanded, watching him as he stood up slowly with his palms upturned towards her.

"Calm down, ca-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" She would have screamed, but her voice was too muddled with tears, and it came out as a waterlogged mixture of chokes, hiccups, and high-pitched cries.

* * *

She seemed hopeless. Maybe she was, but he didn't want to think so. He couldn't think so. He couldn't condemn her to continue living like this. She had too much potential, too much talent and beauty to just be ignored like that, to be regarded as hopeless and doomed to live depressed. As tears began to well up in her eyes and slide down her cheeks, he felt his own heart become agonized by a wrenching, twisting pain.

"Ariadne, just listen to me." He commanded in a firmer voice than before.

She pressed her hands against his chest and shoved him back, and he slammed against the wall. He was surprised by her strength, despite her petite frame and recent loss of weight. He grabbed her by the wrist, clenching them tightly, but not tight enough that he would cause her pain. He couldn't bring himself to cause her any pain.

"Let go of me!" She screamed, trying desperately to pull her arms away from him.

He said it one more time, slow and carefully enunciated as if he were speaking to a child throwing a fit. "Calm down, just ca-"

Suddenly, an impulse came to him. A strange, risky impulse. It was an impulse he was familiar with, and he had even acted on once, during the Fischer job. But now was different. Now was inconvenient. Now was the worst of places to act on this impulse. But he did it anyway.

He leaned in and kissed her, hard. Whether it was to quiet her or because he wanted to, he wasn't sure, though he had a sickening hunch that it was the latter.

At first, she kept on struggling, but then, slowly, she began to melt into the kiss. Slowly, their bodies began to press together, the action so fluid and so easy it felt almost like it was fate. Her lips, though chapped and bloodied, couldn't have felt better. It was just the knowledge that it was Ariadne's lips he was kissing made it feel good. Made it feel right. For such a long time, he had been itching desperately to do that. To passionately kiss her. He had kissed her once before, but it wasn't the same. It was quick, chaste. But it gave him a desire to kiss her once more, to make love to her even. It was a desire so strong, it invoked all sorts of feelings of guilt and lust, sinful feelings. He had detached himself from guilt a long time ago, because he couldn't invade someone's mind, possibly ruining their life, if he was plagued by guilt. But now it was back with a vengeance.

His hands settle gently on her face, ever so tender and careful. Her skin felt so good against his fingertips, like a fabric softer and more luxurious than silk or velvet. His thumb drew slow circles across her cheeks. He could hear her moaning slightly as their lips slowly massaged against one another.

Finally, the kiss broke, leaving them both staring at each other and realizing what just happened.

_I just kissed Ariadne._ He thought, his eyes locked with hers.

Guilt, shame, regret, every emotion rose within him as it dawned on him what he had just done. God, he was no better than Cobb. He acted on his impulses, he was weak and pathetic, unable to control his urges.

"I'm sorry, Ariadne." He confessed quietly, glancing down at his shoes then back at her. "That was... Wrong."

He felt heat rising in his skin, something that he never remembered happening to him. He couldn't even look her in the eyes he felt so much shame. Everytime he looked into those big brown eyes of hers he felt such a guilt, they were a constant reminder of his inability to control his own impulses. God, he was the point man, he couldn't screw up. He had been sent over to help her, and yet he just screwed things up.

"I'll go." He said, turning to make his way towards the door.

But before he could, he felt Ariadne's fingers graze against his.

"Wait." Came her voice, causing him to slowly turn around.

"What?"

Then she kissed him, placing her hands on his face. This kiss was even more passionate than the last. It was fueled by an intoxicating mixture of lust, rage, guilt, shame, desire, love. He quickly succumbed to the kiss, putting his hands on her tiny hips and massaging her skin slowly. God, it was so wrong, which only made him enjoy it even more.

For once in his life, he abandoned his controlled, stiff facade.

He let himself get lost in the passion.

He forgot the reason he had come there in the first place.

They stumbled backwards, into the hallway, still trapped in their passionate kiss. Still moaning quietly and roaming their hands all over each other's bodies. They moved back even more, until he felt himself slam against a door, the knob pressing painfully into his back. He desperately gripped it, and turned it, pushing open the door. They both stumbled into Ariadne's bedroom, promptly shutting the door.

* * *

Ariadne lay in her bed, the fluffy, crisp comforter concealing her naked body. Every muscle was sore, aching, limp. It hurt to even move her finger. Just the slightest motion sent a dull but powerful ache through her body. Her bruises were sore and tender from Arthur being on top of her, from his body pressing into hers. He hadn't known.

She wasn't going to let him know.

Their entire lovemaking had been brutally painful for her, unbeknownst to Arthur, and she loved every minute of it. It had been like cutting herself, cathartic, releasing. Every emotion had been out there, exposed. Her body had been exposed, too. But she had figured out how to keep him from knowing. She kept the lights off, and they had been so caught up in the moment, he didn't dare object.

She should've been shocked, happy that Arthur had just had sex with her. But she wasn't. She knew why he did it. He did it to try to help her, he hadn't really helped her. He just knew that she loved him, the clever bastard. He knew that if he had sex with her, he could convince her to get help. But he was wrong.

She wouldn't get help.

Ariadne rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes, immediately falling into a deep, black sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

Here's chapter four, hopefully it's good. I started this one at 3:32 AM so I'm kinda tired.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inception or the lyrics of the song that I have posted

how can you see into my eyes like open doors  
leading you down into my core  
where I've become so numb without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold  
until you find it there and lead it back home

(Wake me up)  
Wake me up inside  
(I can't wake up)  
Wake me up inside  
(Save me)  
call my name and save me from the dark  
(Wake me up)  
bid my blood to run  
(I can't wake up)  
before I come undone  
(Save me)  
save me from the nothing I've become

now that I know what I'm without  
you can't just leave me  
breathe into me and make me real  
bring me to life

Bring Me to Life,

Evanescence

* * *

Arthur stirred slightly in his sleep, his eyes suddenly flying open to see a room illuminated by shafts of eerie bluish light streaming in through the window, falling on him and Ariadne.

_Ariadne._

The name brought so many feelings to him now, guilt and love particularly. He loved the way that name sounded, so lyrical and flowing, the name of the princess in the Greek myth, the one who helped Theseus defeat the minotaur and escape the labyrinth. It was a rare name, but it was so beautiful. He sighed, pressing his head into the pillow as he recollected the night. He sighed, glancing over at Ariadne's peaceful form next to him. They had made love. He knew all too well the difference between just having sex and making love. It hadn't been for his own enjoyment. It had been for hers. When they had been together, he made love to her with gentleness, and he had even been loving. He assumed she wasn't a virgin, but he didn't know, so he was careful. And even if she wasn't a virgin, he still would have been gentle because of the delicate, frail state she was in. He was scared that somehow he had been inadvertently hurting her, crushing her tiny form beneath him. The sounds she had made almost sounded as if she had been in pain. He would continually ask her if he was hurting her, but she just told him to go on, even though there was a look of pain on her face.

His eyes settled on her naked arm, drinking in the sight of her smooth, silky skin, when he suddenly noticed something odd on her arm. He could've sworn he was just seeing it, but as he slowly pulled down the comforter, to expose more of her arm, he realized that it almost completely covered in slender scars, cloudy bruises, and reddish burns.

"Oh my God." He said under his breath, staring in shock at the conglomeration of injuries covering her arms.

Her skin was covered in them. Scars, long and slender, wrapping around the circumference of her arm, bruises, purple and cloudy, probably still tender, and burns, flesh marred and blackened. Fear, horror, apprehension, all of those emotions swirled within him as he pulled the comforter down lower, until he reached her emaciated legs, which were also covered in scars, bruises and burns.

The scars, they looked delibarate. They were always in lines, some parallel, some not, but they didn't look like incidents. There were too many of them, too many to be incidents. And combined with the bruises and the burns, well... They had to be deliberate.

Suddenly, he felt his stomach to a cartwheel, and his entire body go numb as he realized how much pain she must have been in when he had been making love to her. He had been on top of her. His whole weight had been on top of her. His body had been pressed against hers. The bruises and the burns, they must have hurt so much.

Arthur pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and groaned. "Oh, God!"

Why hadn't she told him he was hurting her? God, he hated himself right now. He wanted so badly to release all of his pent-up emotions, which had all formed in a matter of seconds. He wanted to scream, to cry, to just be able to get this horrible burden away from him. The first time he had ever made love to Ariadne, and he had basically been hurting her for the entire time. It was his fault, he should have known. But no, he had been so caught up by his own foolish desires to even acknowledge what was right in front of him. She was going to hate him from now own, he was sure of that. How could she not? He deserved to be hated. If she hated him, it would give him an odd sense of redemption. At least then he would get what he deserved, even if it hurt. He deserved to be hurt. At the moment, he felt no better than a serial rapist or a murderer. Now, not only was his guilt from hurting Ariadne bursting free, but so was his guilt from every other moment he regretted.

It all was so sick, so twisted.

But there was also anger, not just at himself, but at Ariadne, an evil, sick anger. An anger at her for not telling him the truth. Then again, what reason did she have to tell him the truth? She didn't actually know him that well. True, they had kissed at the Fischer job, but that didn't necessarily mean they truly knew each other.

She had been hurting herself.

Deliberately hurting herself.

The idea was heart-wrenching. All this time, he had known that something was wrong, but this was horrifying. To think that she would actually do that to herself, that she was in so much pain, she would willingly cut herself, bruise herself, _burn _herself, just to escape it? He literally felt chills go down his spine as the image of Ariadne bent over on her knees, dragging a razor blade across her arm filled his mind. He slowly slid out of the bed, quickly pulling on his boxers and searching for the rest of his clothes, which he managed to find quickly.

He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to Ariadne's bed. The numbers _4:52 _flashed in red. _I'll wait for her, then I'll confront her about what she's been doing. _He told himself, pulling his shirt on.

Her sleeping form lying in the bed, he strolled over to her, leaned down, and gently brushed her hair away from her face, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

After that, he waited in her kitchen, at the table. He turned a single light on above him, which illuminated the entire dining room/kitchen. The light was so bright, it almost hurt his eyes, which were already drooping and aching from his lack of sleep that night.

Suddenly, after what felt like hours of just sitting there hopelessly, toying with his loaded die, he received a phone call from Cobb.

"Hello?" He said, pressing the cool metal against his ear.

_"Arthur, did you find out what's wrong with Ariadne?" _Cobb's static-drowned voice was the last thing he wanted to hear at the moment.

Arthur paused, his eyes moving down to the tile floor guiltily. "Um, well not exactly, but I did find out something else."

He pressed his hand against his slicked-back hair and leaned back, realizing with a sense of dread that was a lot like the feeling of falling that now he had no choice but to tell Cobb about what Ariadne had been doing to herself.

_"What'd you find out?" _

He sighed, closed his eyes, then let the words come tumbling out with abandon. "She's cutting herself, Cobb. And not just cutting, either, but there are burns and bruises on her too. I think she's somehow become depressed because she went into Limbo."

He heard Cobb swearing under his breath. _"Shit. How do you know?"_

"Cobb, I saw them myself. They're everywhere, her arms, her legs, her stomach... Her-her chest, even." He stood up, pacing quickly around the small kitchen.

There was a sigh from Cobb. _"Jesus- wait, how did you see these scars, Arthur?"_

Everything stopped. Oh no. No, God, no. He really was an asshole, and an idiot.

_"Arthur? Arthur, are you still there?"_

"Yeah, I'm still here." He said after a pregnant pause, leaning down and clutching the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white, his bones began to protrude from underneath his skin, and he felt his muscles straining.

_"Arthur, how did you see those scars?" _Cobb was adamant now.

But what was he going to do? Tell his boss who also happened to be his closest friend that he had slept with their twenty-something-year-old architect, when he was supposed to find out why there was a drastic change in her?

"I slept with her."

The words were like stones falling from the air, slamming to the ground with a thunderous boom.

_"You what?" _

"I'm sorry, I'm so-" Another voice interrupted him, a quiet, timid voice.

"Arthur? What are you still doing here?" He turned around, and saw none other than Ariadne herself standing a few feet away from him, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes gleaming with a reddish glaze, and an open cut slicing across her left arm. It looked as if it had just formed.

He immediately disconnected the call, hearing Cobb's furious voice suddenly cease, leaving him and Ariadne in silence. They both stared at each other blankly, Ariadne's eyes wide in fear.

She was wearing just an oversized t-shirt and shorts. Her shorts exposed her grotesquely mutilated legs, all covered in bruises, cuts, and patches of charred skin.

"Ariadne, we need to talk." He said, trying to turn his eyes away from her ravaged legs.

She pressed her lips together, a fat, glistening teardrop sliding from the corner of her eye down her cheek. "There's nothing to talk about." Her voice was firm and strong, but every so often it would crack slightly or tremble. "I think it'd be best if you leave."

* * *

There was such an utter humiliation from the current situation. Guilt, shame, humiliation, embarrasment, regret. The list went on and on. Her heart thumped fearfully, erratically, almost to the point of having it's own seizure. Heat began to rise up in her skin, starting in her veins then slowly making it's way up to the very surface of her pale skin. It almost felt like there was fire under her skin. Her ribs seemed to tighten up around her lungs as if they were purposelly trying to suffocate her.

He knew. Her plan had failed. Now, all her scars, all her bruises, and all her burns, they were all exposed for him to see. Every single one of them. It was as if every secret, every regret, every humiliation had been projected onto a gigantic screen for the whole world to see.

"This is serious." Arthur said with gritted teeth, his eyes quickly darting from one injury to the next. "You need help."

She just bit down on her bottom lip, hard, and gripped the edge of the kitchen table, another stinging tear rolling down her flushed skin. But she said nothing. If she said anything it would just make things worse.

"Ariadne." He said softly, gently taking his hand in hers.

"Don't touch me!" She snapped, almost yelled, tearing her hand away from his and pressing it to her aching stomach. "You've already hurt me enough!"

The last few words stung. Stung like bees on her lips, like white-hot needles on her skin, like a rash. She looked away, torn between whether to apologize to him or just hold her tongue. Apologizing sounded good, it sounded like redemption, but how could she be sure? How could she be sure uttering the infamous words "I'm sorry" would free her of her guilt? How did she know that it wouldn't instead just mean sacrificing her dignity and being weak?

Arthur stepped back slowly, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his temples. He sighed, slowly focusing his eyes on her. "I-I-I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry that I hurt you like that. I didn't know I was hurting you."

It sounded as if there was true regret in his voice, as if he were truly guilty for what he done, even though he really hadn't known at all that he had been hurting her. She couldn't help but wonder if he truly sorry. But it almost sounded too good to be true, and odds were high that it probably was. She had learned a long time ago that the best way for her to deal with love was just assume the worst possible, and usually then she was able to save herself from getting hurt.

"You have no idea how much I hate myself for that. I really do." He placed a hand on the table, taking a step closer to her. "I would never do something like that to you deliberately."

She crossed her arms, now torn between apologizing or just continuing her streak of snideness. "I don't believe you. I know why you slept with me, you were trying to get my trust. You took advantage of me."

A flurry of confusing emotions was rushing through her. It was kind of like cutting herself, the emotions contradicting each other to concoct a combination that was oddly pleasing. Part of her hurt from watching herself purposely hurt him after he was so kind to her, but the other part of her was feeling a rush of sadistic pleasure, an addicting adrenaline from the feeling of pushing the envelope, of testing her boundaries. She wanted to see how much damage she could inflict upon him.

"Ariadne." He murmured under his breath, but it seemed like it wasn't directed towards either of them. "I wasn't trying to take advantage of you."

"Yes you were." She choked on a hot, stinging lump that had clogged her throat. "I'm not stupid, Arthur. I know someone like you would never go for someone like me."

She refocused her eyes towards the window, which revealed a dark morning sky covered by slate grey clouds. Now it was truly beginning to become painful for her, to watch Arthur's own pain caused by her. But it was too late for her to take back her words. And that stung even more, like the burning afterglow of a scar left from a whip.

All of a sudden, she felt Arthur's lips pushing gently against hers, but she quickly turned her head to the side and shoved him back. "I told you not to touch me! Why the Hell is that so hard for you to understand?"

Arthur stared at her, then looked at the floor, slowly shaking his head. "Fine. Fine, I'll just leave. But you need to get help for this. You-you can't just go on hurting yourself intentionally. If you won't do it for me, at least do it for Cobb, you're like a daughter to him."

Ariadne watched in shock as he made his way out of her apartment, slamming her door as he did. She had seen Arthur angry only once before. She had seen him serious, but never angry. Not the way he had just been. But her opportunity to apologize now was gone.

She ran for a kitchen knife, and pressed it against her forearm, preparing to push down until blood began to flow. She had never used a knife before. She had used scissors, razors, but never knives. People used knives to kill themselves. She still couldn't bring herself to committ suicide. The idea was still too terrifying, which really was pretty stupid, because she had done it before in a dream. Hell, she had jumped out of a building. But yet she still couldn't bring herself to do it this one time, the one time she probably needed it most. She knew she would wake up. But she was still scared.

Anger at her own weakness began to form, and without thinking, she pressed down as hard as she could. The blade went deep into her skin, deeper than she had ever dared to go before.

She had gone too deep.

A pulsing feeling arose in her stomach as she realized what was going on. She had gone too deep, she might have just doomed herself to die. No, to wake up. She was going to wake up.

A swinging feeling developed beneath her. It was like the floor was rocking back and forth as if it were a pendulum, slow and gentle at first, but growing in intensity. Then the light-headedness came. She watched as a stream of blood dripped down her arm. _I'm waking up, I'm waking up_. She reassured herself.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Arthur inhaled, his hand wrapped around the handle of the door to Ariadne's apartment, but not yet ready to turn the knob. She had probably locked it anyway. But there was something driving impulse within him, an instinct to just try and see if he could apologize to her. He had dated girls before, and he had had strong feelings for them. But none like Ariadne. Ariadne was different. He knew deep inside that he wouldn't someday grow out of her or get tired of her.

He turned the knob, surprised that it actually turned. "Ariadne?"

The door pushed open with ease, revealing the interior of Ariadne's apartment.

There was no response to his words, and the silence was eerie. It gave him a sense of impending doom. It told him something was wrong. He stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. Still nothing.

Then he saw her.

She was lying on the kitchen floor, eyes closed, hair spilling over her face like a tangled, wispy curtain. There was a deep gash on her right forearm, blood dripping out of it and pooling on the polished white tile. A blood-stained knife lie next to her.

"Shit." He muttered under his breath, kneeling at her side.

Immediately, he pulled out his phone and dialed 911. It rang. And rang some more. And the one moment he thought someone was going to pick up, it kept on ringing instead. He felt that lurching feeling in his stomach he got from falling. Finally, they picked up.

When asked what the emergency was, he stumbled over his words, something he had never done before. He was so used to being firm, stoic, and strong. To be so overwhelmed by his emotions like that, to lose control of himself, the concept was scary.

As he waited for 911 to arrive, he gently slid one arm beneath the small of her back, the other behind her knees, and cradled her small form to his chest, praying a silent prayer that she wouldn't die.

* * *

_Whoo! I finally got this chapter up. I'm actually pretty proud of this chapter, I managed to put a lot of my emotions in it. I gotta admit though, Arthur was pretty OOC near the end. Sorry about that, I was feeling a little rushed by then. Anyway, I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can, but I can't make any promises that it'll be soon, because I've got a ton of tests to study for this week (blegh). Anyway, feedback is always welcome and appreciated. :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **And I present to you chapter five! I hope you enjoy it! Remember, more reviews equals more updates! :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inception :(

* * *

Ariadne stirred slowly, drowsiness still weighing down her eyelids and keeping her body heavy. She blinked several times, her vision full of blurred, fuzzy shapes still unrecognizable. But as the shapes began to sharpen, she was able to distinguish what the shapes were. It was then that she realized she was in a small, white hospital room, lying in a bed. There was one other bed in the room, but it was empty. Hazy gray light was filtering in through the large window, which revealed a sheet of drizzling rain and a sky full of slate-grey clouds. There was also a muted TV mounted on the wall, placed on some random news channel she didn't recognize. The monontonous, rhythmic beeping of an EKG was the only sound in the room. Suddenly, she realized how weak her body felt, limp and numb. Despite the fact that several different blankets had been placed on her, she was shivering from continual waves of iciness that hit her body. Goosebumps quivered and puckered on her skin, making it harden and become numb. Her right arm hurt with a pain she had never experienced before. It was an indescribable, unnamable pain.

She glanced to her left and realized that Arthur was leaned over her, his elbows pressed into the mattress and his hands were clasped together, pressed to his forehead. The sleeves of his pale blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and his tie was unfastened, probably the most casual Ariadne had ever seen him. His eyes seemed to be closed, and his lips seemed to be moving slowly, though something told her he wasn't praying. She had never really pegged Arthur for the religious type.

"Arthur?" She said softly, her voice no more than a raspy croak.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, letting out a big sigh. "Ariadne." He let out a melancholy yet relieved chuckle, pressing his hand against his slicked-back hair. "You're okay."

"What happened?" She asked, unable to recall any memories from before.

Arthur rubbed his temple, looking away and staying silent before finally staring her straight in the eyes. "Um, you-you cut yourself. And you went too deep, and you passed out."

Suddenly, all the events from the night before came rushing to her in one huge tidal wave. Having sex with Arthur, then him trying to convince her to get help, which escalated into an explosive argument, and then her taking the knife, and pressing it into her arm. She remembered watching the blood flow from her arm, realizing with dread that she had cut too deep, then the dread turning into relief, that all the pain would finally be over, that she would be awake again. Then, memories of her passionate lovemaking with Arthur came to her mind, no sensory detail forgotten. The way they had made love, it almost made her wonder if maybe he had meant everything he said, about how he would never take advantage of her and that he hadn't meant to hurt her. She bit her lip, an oversized forming in her throat and choking her. Her cruel words echoed through her mind, the sound of them ugly and vile. Their sound was like that of nails screeching against a chalkboard. Fat, stinging tears welled up in her eyes and began to pour down her face.

"Hey, hey." Arthur leaned closer to her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "You're okay, now, you're okay. You don't need to cry."

His voice was so soft, so gentle, it was like he was speaking to an infant. His kindness made her chest tighten up painfully, making her guilt worse. She didn't deserve his kindness. She had said cruel, horrible things to him, ugly things. And yet after all that, he was still so gentle with her, still so compassionate. It only made her feel worse. Every time he was kind to her, she felt her anger and guilt growing. Anger at herself, for reaping his kindness greedily when she knew she didn't deserve it, and at him, for insisting on being so kind to her, even after she was horrible to him.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from him, hiding her shameful face from him.

"Look at me." He commanded gently, lightly stroking her hair, his fingertips brushing against her forehead. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

She shook her head, unable to open her mouth without choking on her tears. "It's-it's nothing."

Ariadne exhaled, hugging her waist defensively and keeping her eyes focused on the thin, crisp blanket draped over her. More than anything she felt an uncontrollable desire to make him leave the room, but somehow she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Her gaze brushed over the heavy layer of bandages wrapped around her right forearm. _If I passed out, then how did I... _

"Arthur, did you save me?" She said quietly, her lips barely moving as the timid words escaped her mouth.

Somehow, some crazed part of her wished that he would say no, so that she didn't have to be pushed deeper into her already suffocating guilt.

"Um... Yeah, I went back in to apologize to you and that's when I saw you." He confessed, leaning back in his seat.

_Of course he did. _She opened her mouth to say something, then paused, taking the time to consider her words carefully. And she knew all she really needed to say was "thank you", but an irritating, nagging voice in the back of her mind told her that wasn't enough to convince him she was being genuine. After the way she treated him, she wouldn't be surprised if he didn't believe her. She didn't deserve to be believed... Or saved. Well, at least what they thought was "saved". She hadn't even acknowledged that she was still trapped in the dream world.

"Excuse me, sir?" Came the voice of a thirty-something-looking nurse with her dull blonde hair pulled into a single braid, and she approached Ariadne's bed. "I'm sorry, but I think that maybe you should give her some time to recover."

Arthur looked up at her and nodded. "Oh, um, of course." He stood up and started towards the open door, looking back at Ariadne the entire time.

* * *

Arthur walked slowly, almost monotonously, practically sliding his feet across the polished tile floor rather than lifting them up then placing them back down. His hands shoved in his pockets, his drowsy-looking gaze not fixed on anything in particular but rather staring forward blankly, he made his way through the pleasantly relaxed hospital hallway.

_At least she's better now. _He told himself. _Well, getting better. _She in no way looked better. She still looked painfully ill, her eyes still weighed down by purple bags, her cheeks still hollow, and her body still marred by hundreds of different injuries. Looking at her injuries was painful, trying to empathize how anyone could be in such a dark, horrible place that they would literally hurt themselves as an escape. It sent uneasy tingles up his spine.

Arthur found himself in the waiting room, where Cobb was sitting in one of the chairs, staring at him with a stern gaze.

"How is she?" Cobb said blandly, the lack of emotion in his voice hinting that he was actually trying to cloak his anger.

"She just woke up." He replied, returning the stern gaze. "I don't think you should talk to her right now, she's still trying to cope with what's going on."

He wanted to avoid as much conversation with Cobb as possible, even though he knew it was inevitable that sooner or later he would have to explain to Cobb why he did what he did. Maybe Cobb would understand. There was a slim chance. Cobb was a bit more of a romantic than Arthur, a bit more idealistic. He was a dreamer (no pun intended). Maybe there was a chance that he would understand his reasons, and if not sympathize then at least empathize the situation he was in.

"Why'd you do it?" He said suddenly, crossing his arms as he stared at the point man, who was for once, caught off guard.

Arthur leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes in hopes of convincing Cobb he didn't know what he was talking about. "Beg pardon?"

"Why'd you sleep with her?"

He sighed, glancing around the nearly-empty waiting room, then finally settled back on Cobb. "It was an impulse, alright? I-I wasn't thinking."

"You definitely weren't." Cobb mumbled, standing up. "Sleeping with our architect? What's going on with you?"

He exhaled through his nostrils, and pressed his fingers deep into his temple and moving them in slow circles. "I don't know. Frankly, I don't see why this is such a concern to you."

"It's a concern to me because she's our _architect, _Arthur." He snapped back, pacing back and forth. "Eames told me about the kiss on the Fischer job. That's fine... But this?"

"You make it sound like I'm the reason she tried to kill herself." Arthur was pressing his teeth together, feeling pressure build in his jaw.

"Well, maybe you are." Cobb retorted, then an awkward silence settled between them.

It lasted for what felt like hours, even though it was probably only a few seconds. Both were itching to say something, but they both knew saying something would escalate their arguement into a true fight. And neither of them really wanted to be kicked out of the hospital. So they both stayed quiet, no matter how much they hated it.

"I'm going to go talk to Ariadne." Cobb concluded, walking past him quickly before he could object.

Arthur crossed his arms, watching Cobb head towards Ariadne's room.

* * *

_Okay, I know this chapter probably sucked really bad. I was pretty blocked, but I wanted to keep my updates going steady. I have a bunch of things to study for this week, so keeping my updates going steady might be a little difficult. But I promise it'll get better once Christmas break starts. :) Anyway, I love reviews. Consider them your Christmas present to me, and my Christmas present to you is more updates._


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note:

Alright, the last chapter sucked, I know. But I promise I'll make this one waaay better. Reviews are appreciated.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Inception

Ariadne lay in the hospital bed, her legs curled up to her stomach, a horrible, squeezing headache pounding at her skull. She had decided she wasn't going to think about Arthur, under any circumstances. He just made her do things she regretted whenever he was around. She had figured out that it wasn't really him- it was her, it was her fault. She just did stupid things when she was around him. God, she hated herself right now. She should have locked the door... She should have let herself die, so that she could return to the real world, and be free of all her burdens.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice.

"Ariadne."

She sat up and looked towards the door, and saw Cobb standing in it, a sympathetic smile on his face. "What are you doing here, Cobb?"

"I came to check up on you." He said, strolling over to her bedside. "How are you?"

She sighed, pressing the heels of her palms against her sleepy eyes. "Alright I guess."

_Liar_. A little voice in the back of her head song. _Liar, liar, liar. You're a liar and you know it. _She needed a razor, a cigarette, _something _to help her escape from all of these emotions. Being around Cobb was now only making her guilt worse... Everything made her guilt worse. A searing pain drilled straight through her chest, making her choke slightly. In a way, she saw Cobb as somewhat of a father figure. Lying to him would be like lying to her real father. It would make her feel guilty, empty, shameful. There were few things worse than seeing her father happy because of a lie she told him. She remembered she once cheated on a test in the fourth grade, and got an A on it. Her father had been ecstatic. She had never gotten an A on a math test before. But the guilt had been eating away at her, eating away until she had to confess to him what she had done. The disappointment in his face, in his voice, had been oddly redeeming. At least he knew the truth. But then that forced her to wonder something else- would it have been better if she had just lied, because at least then her father wouldn't have had to go through the shame of knowing his daughter had cheated on a test?

"How's the hospital been treating you?" He said, obviously trying to act optimistic in hopes of raising her spirits.

It wasn't working.

"Fine." She said with a shrug. "I just woke up like half an hour ago, so I don't really know."

Cobb nodded, grabbing a chair next to the window and pulling it up next to her bed.

"Ariadne, there's really no other way to say this- why did you do this to yourself?" He asked, his tone changing from optimistic to sympathetic, his blue eyes staring at her bandaged arm.

"I'd rather not talk about it." She said under her breath, suddenly realizing that her arms were pretty much exposed, revealing a melange of cuts, bruises, scrapes, and burns.

"Well, Ariadne, you need to." He said, staring at her in a way that brought back memories of her father, sending another searing pain drilling through her chest. "Was it because of Arthur? I know what he did to you."

She sniffled, feeling as if someone had pryed open her ribs, stuck their hand in, and clenched it as tight as they could around her heart. "It doesn't matter what it's about."

_There you go again, liar. You'll never stop lying, will you? _That evil, taunting voice sang once more, making her choke. A burning sensation shot through her throat, followed by a painful lump.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself!" She snapped, sitting up and staring at him with her eyes narrowed.

The icy air in the hospital room sent chills beneath her skin and made her scrapes sting, but she didn't bother to cover up her arms. The pain was something she had grown accustomed to. It was regular, a common element of life. Only a few times had she actually pondered how unhealthy it was that she was totally used to pain she had exposed herself to it so many times. Of course, she knew it was a sign she should stop, but she didn't care.

"Ariadne, Arthur told me you were cutting yourself. Why didn't you tell anyone about this?" He gripped the metal frame of her hospital bed so hard she could see the bones of his knuckles protruding beneath his white skin.

"Why would I?" Tears began to flow from her water-filled eyes abundantly, rolling down her face and leaving a salty, crusty residue on her skin where they dried.

It began to feel as if something blisteringly hot and sharp was lodged at the base of her throat, choking her so that her quiet whimpers became waterlogged hiccups and wheezes. The squeezing feeling in her chest was becoming worse. She pressed her lips together tightly and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms.

"I don't feel like talking right now." She whimpered, burying her face in her hands.

"You need to." Cobb seemed to loosen his grip on the bed frame, the skin of his knuckles slowly melting back into their familiar color. "If you didn't tell us, which I can understand, why didn't you tell your family?"

"I didn't want to." She pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I didn't intend for Arthur to find out, either."

"By the way, I talked to Arthur about what happened between you two." Cobb said suddenly, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry about what he did."

She stared forward blankly, her lips barely moving as she mumbled quietly. "He didn't do anything."

At least he hadn't known he had done anything. He hadn't known how significant that night they had spent together really was, not just because she had been with him, but because of something else, something almost as important. Frankly, she had been surprised she had pulled it off without him noticing.

* * *

Arthur exhaled, kneading his fingertips against his temples as he buried himself in deep thought. _I hadn't really noticed it before... But it kind of seems like she was now that I think about it. _Sitting in that waiting room, alone, with only a few outdated magazines and a couple of potted plants to keep him company, he had inevitably found himself dwelling on that night he had spent wi"th Ariadne. And dwelling on it for such a long time had made him realize something he hadn't thought of before, but now seemed frighteningly real- that Ariadne had been a virgin before they had sex. At first, the idea had seemed preposterous, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized it made much more sense. The more he realized he might have actually been responsible for her deflowering. She hadn't said anything to him, but the way she acted, and the way it had felt to have sex with her made him think otherwise. There had been an odd look of pain on her face the first time he had... Ahem... _Entered _her. He remembered asking her if he was hurting her, but she had said she was fine. That was the only moment they had broken away from their passionate trance.

* * *

"Aria-" Cobb was saying, when suddenly, Arthur quickly entered the room, his gaze flipping briefly from Ariadne to Cobb. "What is it?"

"I have to ask Ariadne something." He pressed his hand against his slicked-back hair. "And I need privacy. Please, just this once."

Ariadne lay in the hospital bed, helplessly watching the scene unfold before her. Her entire body was going limp, her mind was becoming blank. She had a sickening feeling that she knew what he wanted to ask her. Every second seemed to slow down, as if it were trying to torture her by making her anticipate what she dreaded.

"Fine." Cobb said, brushing past Arthur quickly.

Arthur turned to look at Ariadne. "Ariadne, I need you to answer this question honestly. Completely honestly. Please."

She nodded, preparing to hear the words.

"Were you a virgin before I had sex with you?"

* * *

_Cliffhanger, I know. I'm going to be honest, the whole virginity thing was kind of impromptu, but it was such a good idea I just had to go with it. I'm not sure when you'll be seeing another update, but I'll try to make it soon. Also, to all you people who have read my other story, Infiltration, I'd like to assure you that I haven't given up on it, I've just been kind of blocked, but I'm working on the next chapter, and it should be up in a couple of days, possibly a week. As for this story, I'm not sure how many more chapters there will be, but I'm going to try to extend it on for a while. I'm planning on Arthur and Ariadne having an established relationship, probably one where Arthur is caring for Ariadne and helping her get over her addiction. Anyway, you know the drill, but in case you don't, I'll run it by you again: read, review, repeat. Haha. Ciao :)_


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **YAY! New reviews. I love your reviews, they make me so happy. I feel like it's Christmas morning everytime I open up my email inbox. Yes, I know that the virginity thing is super-cliched, but I couldn't help myself! I know, I know, I'm making excuses. I'll work extra hard to try and make it believable.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inception (Though I have it on DVD)

* * *

"Is this really important?" Was her icy, razor-edged reply.

There was that odd, intoxicating sense of bliss she got from hurting him. She had finally figured out why it felt so frighteningly good- it gave her a sense of control, something she had lost her grasp of a long time ago. It made her feel powerful, like she was stronger than him, stronger than anyone else. For all this time, she had been so used to being polite. To obeying her superiors. But to disobey them, to stray away from the well-walked path was... Intoxicating.

"It's important to me." He replied, trying to sound strong, but she could tell by the exasperated sigh at the end of his sentence that he was crumbling.

She crossed her arms, her lungs swelling up to the point that they felt like balloons about to pop as she inhaled deeply. "Fine, yes, you were my first. I was a virgin before I slept with you! Are you happy now?"

But to her surprise, he didn't reply. He just slowly moved away from the bed and walked mindlessly towards the window, tossing his head back and rubbing his hands against his face.

"No." He said blankly, turning towards her so that their eyes met challengingly. "No, I'm not. Why didn't you tell me? I could have stopped if you wanted me to!"

"I just wanted to get it over and done with." She mumbled under her breath, staring down uncomfortably at all the scars that marred her flesh.

_Also, I wouldn't have anyone other than you be my first. _A snide little voice in her head chimed in, making a white-hot lump gather in her chest and begin to rise painfully in her throat. She would never tell him that. She wanted to trust him, but she was scared to. Scared that she would just get burned. Arthur was too good to be true. Any guy that was too good to be true inevitably ended up betraying her. Why would he be any different?

"Ariadne, that isn't something you just get over and done with." He responded, his voice strong, firm, rising in volume from his anger. "You-you... God, I can't even talk around you!"

Suddenly it was as if someone was rubbing a scouring pad against the inside of her throat, scratching away all of the skin until every inch of the inside of her throat was raw and bleeding. She began to choke on something that wasn't there, more searing, scathing globs of water filling up in her eyes then trickling down her face. The intoxicating feeling was beginning to wear away. The drunkenness she felt from the power of tearing him down was quickly melting into what could almost be considered a hangover. All her fiery, crackling, electrifying anger was becoming an overwhelming, blinding guilt that made her throat close up and her ribs enclose around her lungs. She could feel herself being sucked deeper and deeper into her own inescapable pool of guilt, suffocating, choking, pleading for a way out. For redemption.

"Arthur, I'm sorry." She scrunched her eyes together, pressed her hand against her forehead, and began to sob. "I really am sorry. I don't know why, it just felt so good to hurt you. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" The anger in his voice was completely gone now, replaced by what sounded like a mixture of wonder and curiosity.

"I was so cruel to you earlier, and you didn't do anything wrong! I just liked the feeling of hurting you for some reason." She shook her head slowly, unable to look him in the eyes. "Part of me liked you, but the other part of me didn't, and I guess that hurting you made me feel in control. God, I'm such a screw-up."

Her emotions were pouring out of her at an astounding, dizzying rate. It was a repulsive, horrifying, yet oddly releasing sense of carthasis, sort of like hurting herself, but different somehow. She couldn't explain it. But it was unstoppable. Every emotion she had bottled up was now out there and exposed. She was blabbering on and on like some hysterical child, her words tangling with waterlogged sobs to become a confusing muddle.

"Ariadne." Arthur said quietly, almost whispered, then she felt his fingers gently enclose around her wrist. "Look at me."

_No, no, no, don't look at him. _She kept her face buried in her palms, every inch of her body trembling like a browned, shriveled-up leaf.

"Please." He slowly, gently began to pull her hands away from her face, until they were both staring at each other in the eyes.

As her eyes met his, she felt her entire body go numb, her heart stop for a split second, and her fingertips seize. "I let one stupid kiss get the best of me."

"No, you didn't. I wanted to kiss you." He whispered, his thumb softly brushing against her face, wiping away a large tear that had been trailing down her cheek. "I _like _you."

Once again, she felt herself battling over whether or not to believe him. The moment was just too good to be true, and every rational part of her was screaming for her not to trust him. But another part of her was longing, achingly desiring to believe him, to trust him. He was telling her he liked her. Even though it seemed like all the odds were stacked against her, like even if he was telling the truth, and her did want to be with her, that their relationship was doomed to collapse. She stared at him, her lips slightly parted, the temptation to trust him a lot like the temptation to try a drink even if she was underaged, to try a smoke, to subtly glance at the test of the student next to her and copy down their answers. So wrong, so forbidden, but somehow it was the forbidden things that felt the best. Like the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.

"Really?" She murmured, sitting up slightly.

"Yeah."

Then, slowly, torturously slowly, they moved in closer, feeling the electricity between their bodies crackle more and more until finally they came together in a tight embrace. His hands gently stroked her back, for once making her feel safe and warm. But yet somehow, deep inside, there was an aching, gnawing feeling, that they were doomed.

* * *

"What happened?" Cobb inquired as Arthur came strolling into the waiting room, toying with his red loaded die, lifting his gaze which was once at his feet towards the extractor.

"We're together." He said bluntly, a subtle hint of _screw you _in his voice.

* * *

_Okay, I worked pretty hard on this chapter, but I'm afraid that it was over sentimental. Dear God, I hope not. If it sucked I will happily go back and rewrite it so that it will be better. I can promise you that this story is probably going to go on for a while, and that the course of their relationship is going to be very rough. Hopefully, I'll be able to pull it off. Anyway, I always love reviews, and boy, do they make me write more. Toodles._


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all the kind reviews, I was so excited when I opened up my email account and saw them in my inbox. Now, someone said that Ariadne was OOC (I sound really pissed off right now, but don't worry, I'm not), and I totally agree with them, she is, but I kind of intended for her to be. This story isn't really meant to be a continuity of Inception, but rather a kind of a cathartic sort of thing. Also, just in case any of you were wondering, I have never cut myself, and hopefully I never will, I just have a very vivid imagination. I'm sorry if this chapter sucks and the plot seems a bit too convenient, I just really didn't know where to go from there, so I kind of tried to come up with the best way to continue and this was all I could think of. After this, it should get a lot better.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inception

Take a breath, take it deep  
Calm yourself, he says to me  
If you play, you play for keeps  
Take a gun, and count to three  
I'm sweating now, moving slow  
No time to think, my turn to go

And you can see my heart beating  
You can see it through my chest  
And I'm terrified but I'm not leaving  
Know that I must must pass this test  
So just pull the trigger

Say a prayer to yourself  
He says close your eyes  
Sometimes it helps  
And then I get a scary thought  
That he's here means he's never lost

As my life flashes before my eyes  
I'm wondering will I ever see another sunrise?  
So many won't get the chance to say goodbye  
But it's too late too pick up the value of my life

Russian Roulette,

Rihanna

* * *

Ariadne gently placed her bishop on her empty gray food tray, then flicked it and watched as it quickly toppled over and rolled slightly. It had been such a long time since she tested that thing out. Some time after the Fischer job, when she had first begun to realize she was still in a dream, she had lost trust in her totem. It wasn't really a reasonable or rational sort of loss of trust- something deep inside just began to ask "How does that little chess piece prove anything?". It was a distrust that defied all logic and reason, and frankly was one of the worst kinds. One of the things that scared her the most was something without reason. Even now, she still wondered if she could trust her totem. Frankly, she still believed they were dreaming. But she didn't have the guts to leave Arthur, not now, when they were pretty much together. No, she was going to try and help him get out. She had to help him get out.

* * *

"So, I heard you're dating Ariadne." Eames said, strolling through the hospital hallway over to Arthur with his hands shoved in his pockets.

The moment he heard that all-too-familiar, frustratingly-cocky British accent, his fingers began to twitch and curl up until his hands were balled into fists. Normally, Eames caused an aggravation in him that was more brotherly than truly angry or hating, but at the moment, he just really wished the Forger could just disappear into thin air.

Arthur drew his eyes away from the window that let him look into Ariadne's hospital room, and to Eames. "Yeah, why do you care?"

"Oh, I don't. But Cobb's pretty pissed, you know." He replied, rocking back and forth on his heels nonchalantly. "Said you're being irresponsible, and some... Other things I'm not going to repeat."

"And you're telling me this why?" He said in a bored, monotone voice, staring blankly ahead at Ariadne, who was currently lying asleep in the hospital bed.

Her arms were exposed, leaving all of her sickening, brutal injuries out for the world to see. It almost made him sick, to think why she would do such a thing, to imagine the level of desperation she must have been in to seek such a gruesome method as a way out. And, of course, there was the fact that it would take forever for her scars to heal, not to mention the bruises and burns. She had practically desecrated her body, giving it the appearance that it had been abused in some sort of sick fashion.

"Bloody Hell." Eames mumbled breathlessly, his eyes widening as they locked onto the sight of Ariadne's arms. "She really destroyed them, didn't she?"

"You have no idea." He said, a montage of mental pictures of the injuries that ravaged the rest of her body flashing through his brain. "You didn't answer my question."

Eames glanced at him, eyes narrowed in confusion. "Hmm? Oh! Yes, right... That. I was just warning you."

Arthur nodded. "Hm, well, I don't really need to be warned. It's pretty obvious that Cobb's pissed off at me."

"I know." The Forger said, sticking a cigarette in between his teeth and preparing to light it.

"You realize you're not allowed to smoke in hospitals, right?" He glanced at Eames, an eyebrow raised in what was a mixture of annoyance, surprise, and amusement.

"Damnit, you can't smoke bloody anywhere anymore, can you?" Eames quickly pulled the cigarette out from between his teeth and glancing around warily. "Well, then I will be off to smoke this outside. Cheerio."

Arthur didn't reply, knowing that the _cheerio _was a lot like a _thank you _that you said to a grocery store clerk when they handed you your bags- a habit. He looked back at Ariadne, then, realizing that she was waking up, quickly walked into her room.

"Hey." She said, her voice timid and strained from drowsiness, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand lazily.

He smiled, grabbing the nearby chair and pulling it up to her bed. "Hey. You know you're being discharged today."

"I know." She said, outstretching her arms as she yawned and blinked several times. "Finally."

* * *

Ariadne was discharged at 3:00. The doctors referred her to a few psychiatrists who they said could help her with her depression, but she had no plans to call any of them. After all, she wasn't actually depressed, and she knew those people were really just projections. For a while, in that hospital, she had actually begun to believe that she wasn't dreaming. It hadn't been very long, but it was still dangerous. She was sick of waking up every morning, seeing Paris in the window, seeing all of it's beauty and wonder, and yet knowing that none of it was real. It was like a rock tied to her back, always weighing her down, always prohibiting her from being happy. But she was going to change that. She was going to save herself, and the rest of the team, from being trapped in this dream.

"Listen, the doctors asked me to keep an eye on you for a little while, so I was wondering if maybe you'd like to come stay at my apartment for a while." Arthur said as he drove them through the streets of Paris. "I know we agreed to take things slowly, but-"

"No, I think it's better if I just stay at my house." She said sleepily, folding her arms tightly for warmth. "You can come and check on me though, if you like."

* * *

Arthur had gone out of his way to make sure he hid all of the scissors, knives, and razors in his house. As much as he wanted to believe that she could get over her addiction, he knew that it took a long time for her to be cured, and that the temptation would always be there. But it seemed that his work had gone to waste since she declined his invitation to stay with him. The rational, left-brained part of him that dominated his personality 99% of the time told him he was upset because he knew that at her house she had stuff she could use to cut herself, but the other part of him that anyone rarely ever saw told him he was upset because he wanted to be around her.

"Here you are." He said, stopping in front of the door of her apartment.

"Thanks for bringing me here." She said, smiling weakly.

Then, all of a sudden, she quickly kissed him on the lips, but pulled back slowly with a look of insecurity and uncertainty on her face.

Arthur just smirked. "You're welcome."

"D-do you want to come in? We could get dinner or something." She gestured timidly towards the door.

"Sure." He replied, unaware that that invitation was the beginning of the most tumultuous, turbulent relationship of his life.

* * *

At first, their relationship was pure, unbroken bliss. Of course, there were all sorts of external conflicts, such as Cobb, but nothing could bring them down. When they were together, it was like a perfect sanctuary in another world, an escape, where they could forget every struggle, every sadness, every pain. Words could not describe the euphoria they felt when they were together. They both knew deep down inside that their relationship was built on an unstable foundation, but they both denied it carelessly. They both knew that their agreement to take things slowly had been quickly overrun, forgotten. It didn't take long for them to become wrapped up in the pleasure of being together, both physically and emotionally. Especially physically. It was almost worrying how much they made love. But none of that mattered to them.

And Ariadne managed to keep a deep, dark secret from him the entire time.

Then, they had their first argument.

It wasn't too explosive, but it was tumultuous enough to be like a prelude of what was to come. They yelled at each other, there were tears, the classic relationship fight. It didn't take long for them to make up. Soon, they were back together again, back into their blissful euphoria. Then, there was another fight. Then another. And another. And they got worse each time, but they still kissed and made up. It was an eternal cycle. They would fight, they would make up, and then they would go through a period of bliss, only to have another fight. But they were addicted. Neither of them would admit, but deep down inside they both knew- they were addicted to the mixture of pain and pleasure, addicted to the love, and addicted to the hate. Addicted to it like it was a powerful drug.

Ariadne still managed to keep her secret shockingly, a secret that would have devastated Arthur. The entire time she still believed they were dreaming, and the entire time she was still hurting herself.

* * *

_Garrrggh, I know this chapter was bad, especially the end, but I promise it's going to get much better. I was pretty blocked, but now I'm over it. I always love reviews, so you know what to do. Happy Christmas/Kwanzaa/Hannukah/Yule! :)_


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Okay, it's pretty evident that the last chapter sucked but I worked really hard on this chapter, so hopefully this will be a lot better. Just to let you know, in this chapter it's now like a couple months later, and Arthur and Ariadne are in an established relationship. Ariadne's secretly still abusing herself, and she still thinks that they're living in a dream. I'm sorry if this chapter isn't very good, I busted my butt working on it, but for some reason I feel like I've lost my mojo.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Inception or the lyrics of the song I posted below

All around me are familiar faces  
Worn out places, worn out faces  
Bright and early for the daily races  
Going nowhere, going nowhere

Their tears are filling up their glasses  
No expression, no expression  
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow  
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad  
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had  
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take  
When people run in circles its a very, very  
Mad world, mad world

Children waiting for the day they feel good  
Happy birthday, happy birthday  
And I feel the way that every child should  
Sit and listen, sit and listen

Went to school and I was very nervous  
No one knew me, no one knew me  
Hello teacher tell me, what's my lesson?  
Look right through me, look right through me

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad  
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had  
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take  
When people run in circles its a very, very  
Mad world, mad world, enlarging your world  
Mad world

Mad World,

Gary Jules

* * *

Ariadne sat with her back against the bland white wall of her tiny bathroom, her knees pulled up against her chest as it heaved up and down with each waterlogged sob. Her whole body was trembling, from the painfully numb tips of her toes to her throbbing skull. She pressed her forehead against her knees, whimpering softly.

Once again, they had had yet another fight. This time, it had been because she thought he was only with her so that he could make sure she wasn't cutting. Stupid, yes, but for some reason they still fought about it.

All the yelling, tears, it was almost regular. Regular like taking a shower or watching TV. And she knew it shouldn't be regular. She knew it wasn't healthy, but neither was self-mutilation, so why did it matter? Besides, it was all a dream anyway. If she kept it up long enough, eventually it would kill her, and she wouldn't have to worry about doing it herself. It would be out of her control, it would be natural, inevitable. Oh, how she longed for that. But she didn't want to leave this nightmare without Arthur. As much as they fought, there was something chillingly addictive about being with him. Every time one of them declared it was over, she would repeat it over and over in her head, telling herself that this was it, that she wouldn't come running back to him. But every time, something inside her would snap, and she would call him and apologize, and they would make up, or he would apologize, and she would accept his apology. This time was no different. She was telling herself, over and over and over, that she was not going to accept his apology or apologize to him, but deep down inside she knew. She knew that in a short matter of time they would be together again, promising each other this was the last time this would happen. And she knew she shouldn't accept his apology. Her conscience screamed at her that she shouldn't. But she had learned to ignore her conscience, which was both liberating yet shameful.

Ariadne stood up slowly, her legs wobbling, and pulled open her drawer, exposing a razor blade. Everytime she looked at that damn razor blade, so many different thoughts and emotions filled her mind, the feeling so overwhelming she could literally feel pressure building within her skull. She had promised herself she wouldn't cut herself again. How long ago was that, about three days ago? Probably. It was yet another reminder of how weak-willed she really was. There was a small, timid voice in the back of her head, saying "You don't have to do this, Ariadne, you're better than that." She didn't believe that voice. It was too positive, too good to be true. It had the same authenticity of one of those internet ads that promised instant results with absolutely no work. Of those infomercials that came on at three in the morning.

Her chest tightened into a knot as her fingers enclosed around the razor, and she slowly lifted it towards her arm, her gaze tracing over all of the other pinkish scars that criss-crossed across her pale skin. She had told Arthur they were just old scars that were taking a while to heal. Whether or not he believed her, she wasn't sure. There had been a look of disbelief, of suspicion in his eyes. But he had said he believed her.

She closed her eyes, held her breath, and pressed the razor into her skin. It took a few seconds, but then the numbness began to settle in, the lovely numbness. The sweet numbness. All of the pain, the sorrow, the guilt, it all just dissolved into nothingness. Forgotten. Of course, only temporarily. Soon they'd be back again. Oh, but why did it matter? Temporary release was a thousand times better than no release at all.

Soon, the numbness wore off, and she came back to "reality". Sniffling, the cold air sending little needles into her open cut, she stood up and pulled out a dark brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet, while tentatively sticking her arm under the water as it poured from the faucet. Once again, the wound began to sting like Hell, but it was a sting she had grown accustomed to a long time ago. Soon, she disinfected it and wrapped it up as if she were a professional, and slowly made her way out of the bathroom.

She picked up a thin gray sweater that was on the floor and threw it on. The wiry fabrics of it rubbed against her skin and stood up in the same manner hair would stick up after being rubbed by a balloon. She started down the hallway, but stopped halfway through, and slumped against the wall, slowly sliding down until she hit the floor.

There was a knock on the door.

She knew immediately who it was.

"Come in." She called out solemnly, her voice slow and dragging.

The door slowly pushed open, and Arthur stepped in, dark stubble lightly shading his jaw, eyes ever-so-slightly tinted with red, and the sleeves of his light blue shirt rolled up to his elbows.

They had moved in together a couple of months ago, so now Arthur had the key to her apartment. Originally, Arthur had insisted she stay with him, but Ariadne declined.

Neither of them said a word. She just stared up at him blankly, already aware of what would happen next. It played in her head over and over like a scene from a movie. She rubbed her palms against her tear-stung eyes, sniffling like a little child. A stabbing pain shot through her throat as she swallowed an oversized, burning lump. Arthur walked towards her wordlessly, then slowly sat down next to her, their shoulders pressed against each other.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice gentle and monotonous, looking towards her.

"I know you are." She replied, staring straight ahead at the floor, blinking rarely.

They had done this so many times. It was as if they were reading off of a script, knowing exactly what to say, exactly how the scene would unfold. Sometimes she wondered why they even bothered to go through all of the apologies, when really they weren't even necessary. Sometimes she wished she could just skip through it all and go straight to the happy periods of their relationship.

"What is this, like, the eighth time this has happened?" He inquired with a humorless chuckle.

"Ninth by my count." She said, the corners of her lips tugging upwards in a bittersweet half-smile.

Ninth, eighth, did it really matter? It was all the same.

"I really am sorry." He glanced at her, and their eyes met. "I-I... I don't know. I don't know what the Hell's wrong with me."

All of the feeling in the tips of her fingers drained away, leaving them icy and numb. There he went again, taking the blame for something that was her fault. He always did that. She hated that about him so much. He wasn't like most people, who made her hurt by directly and intentionally trying to hurt her. He hurt her by being so kind to her, his kindness reminding her how much she didn't deserve it. There were so many times where she'd wish he'd just intentionally hurt her rather than stir up her guilt by showing her kindness when she didn't deserve it. Yet she never argued against it. She let him be kind to her, she reaped his kindness greedily.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Arthur." She mumbled timidly, her lips barely moving. "It's me."

"No, it's not, why do you always say that?" He argued, his voice gaining in strength as he leaned towards her.

"Why do _you _always say that?" Ariadne snapped, then drew in her breath and stared blankly into his eyes. "You always take the blame for everything, how do you think I feel? I feel like the bad guy every time!"

Arthur gazed at her. "I'm sorry, if I make you feel that wa-"

"You're doing it again!" She cried, hot tears welling up in the corners of her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. "You're so... Nice to me, and I don't deserve it!"

"Yes you do." He insisted, gently brushing a strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear, his thumb grazing against her cheekbone in the process. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. It's just... Just that we do this all the time. We fight, then we get back together, then we fight again." She said in between scratchy sobs, feeling as if there were nails in her throat.

"I know, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry." He said, his voice becoming strained. "I'm really sorry. I just want to be with you."

Ariadne nodded quickly, wiping away yet another tear from her face. "I know... I know."

Then, at that moment, they both knew what to do. They both knew what would happen next. Ariadne leaned in towards Arthur, as did he towards her, then they both stopped when their lips were barely a few inches apart. They both knew that it wouldn't last, that soon they would be fighting again. But for some reason, she couldn't resist him. She just kept on coming back to him, no matter how much she knew it hurt her.

"You realize this is going to last, right?" She whispered, inching closer to him.

"I know." He replied.

Then their lips met.

* * *

Ariadne stirred slowly in bed, feeling a warm heaviness wrapped around her waist. Her vision was blurred and fuzzy, but as it slowly began to sharpen, she realized she was staring into Arthur's sleeping face. Golden light filtered in through the gaps in her blinds and stretched across the bed in blocks, illuminating Arthur's face. His arm was draped over her waist, holding her down. His body was pressed against hers, his warmth mingling with hers. Ariadne shifted slightly, fidgeting with a bra strap that had fallen to her shoulder. They hadn't had sex that night, but they had kissed for a while. They had been too tired to have sex. She blinked slowly, wiggling herself so that she was pressed against him more. Her eyes began to slowly fall closed.

There was a shrill ring.

It made her jolt, her heartbeat speeding up immediately, the vibrations echoing through her body. Arthur's phone lit up. She stared at it as it sat on the bedside table, considering answering it. _Nah, _she decided rather quickly, burying herself once more against him. His chest was so warm, it made her feel so safe, so safe from all of the dangers of the outside world.

_"Arthur, it's me, Cobb. Listen, I figured out by now that you and Ariadne are probably together again, but I really think you should rethink that. You yourself said that you weren't sure that you loved her. You said she was too emotionally unstable, that she goes psychotic over everything. Why are you putting yourself through this? I know we're not really much of friends anymore, but you're relationship with her is getting in the way of your work. I need my Point Man back__." _

Ariadne felt anger blooming in her chest, rising up inside of her and overpowering her. She couldn't believe it, she refused to believe it. Anger was buzzing inside of her mind, clouding her senses. She had no idea who to be angry at. Herself? Arthur? Eames? Cobb? She had no idea. She was just angry. Raw, uncontrolled anger. No, she was angry at Arthur. Angry at him for the fact that he had told Cobb she was emotionally unstable. Angry at him for the fact that he said she went psychotic over everything. Angry at herself for thinking that she could trust him.

* * *

_Yeah, as I said before, I feel like I've lost my mojo. I don't know if I have or not, but it may be because I'm working on another story that's not a Fanfic. I don't know, anyway, please read and review. Maybe your reviews will give me my mojo back._


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: I finally updated! I am so sorry for taking so long before, I was just so blocked and stuff, but now I'm doing way better. Anyway, this chapter is pretty explosive (in my opinion). Tell me what you think. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Inception

* * *

Arthur immediately noticed something was different about Ariadne. Once again, he couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but something about her was unbearably different. She was cold, blunt, almost hostile. When he woke up, she was already out of bed, and in the kitchen, making herself breakfast. When he said good morning to her, she simply looked up at him then back at her cereal. An unnerving sort of suspicion that something was wrong arose within him, but at the same time he was unsure if maybe she was just having a bad morning.

"You okay?" He asked her casually as they were getting dressed.

She nodded, glancing into his eyes momentarily. "Yeah."

But he could tell something was wrong. It was there in the pit of his stomach, in the back of his head, like a splinter he could feel but couldn't find. The desire to understand why she was acting like this was overwhelming. But if there was nothing wrong, she might take it the wrong way. And then there would actually be something wrong, right after they had just made up.

"Are you sure?" He persisted, buttoning up his shirt.

"I said I'm fine!" She snapped, then raked her hand through her hair.

Arthur stepped towards her. "Ariadne, is something wrong?"

"Don't act like you don't know." She said, her teeth gritted.

He felt his chest tighten anxiously. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sharp shooting pains stabbed at his stomach as he tried to make eye contact with her, but she just looked away. Tension built in his muscles, and without thinking, he grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her around to look at him.

"Get away from me." She pressed her small hands against his chest and shoved him back, then stormed out the door.

"Ariadne!" He called after her, racing through the door after her.

She was halfway through the dim hallway, when he grabbed her by the wrist, and tugged her towards him. His heartbeat, once slow and calm, was now escalating dizzyingly. He could feel a sickeningly energizing rush of adrenaline, which he tried to fight against. It was the kind of adrenaline that he got when he was in the middle of a fight, the kind that helped him block or punch instinctively. But this wasn't the right situation for him to be in a fighting mode. Ariadne tried to jerk herself away from him, but he kept his grip tight, grabbing her other wrist in the process. She continued to try and wiggle herself away from him, whereas he tried with all his power to keep himself calm.

"Let go of me!" She shrieked, then a second later he felt her hand slap against his cheek.

He felt the stinging imprint of her hand on his skin, and for what felt like an eternity they both stared at each other with dumbfounded looks. She didn't just do that... They had got into an innumerable amount of fights in the pasts, explosive fights, but never, ever had they escalated into physical fights. They had just screamed at each other, horrible, ugly things. But there was never any hitting. Never any slapping.

There was a thick wall of silence lodged between, intangible but undoubtedly there. His grasp around her wrists slowly began to loosen, his fingertips slid down the pallid skin of her wrist, then he gently touched them against the spot on his cheek where she had slapped him. At that moment, he should have been feeling angry, or shocked, or horrified, but he felt nothing.

Just an icy numbness inside of him.

He didn't yet know what to feel. His brain was still trying to understand what had just happened. There was a tight, throbbing ache in his chest as his heart pounded against his ribs. As each second passed, his stomach began to knead and curl fearfully as the cruel realization dawned on him. He stared at Ariadne, whose lips were formed into a perfect O shape and eyes were shimmering with tears.

"Ariadne." He murmured under his breath.

The words hung in the air ominously, like a phantom.

But she didn't say anything. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she turned around to head towards the door. Without a thought, Arthur grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back, only realizing the consequences of his actions a few seconds later. Ariadne pressed her hands against his chest and shoved him backwards.

Something inside him snapped.

A synapse in his brain.

A thread of sanity, of consideration, of rationality, something snapped.

Unlike before, he was unable to fight the adrenaline rush.

It devoured him ravenously.

It took control of him.

What happened next was a complete blur. He had a general idea of what happened, but it was fuzzy and hazy, it was like trying to remember a dream after he'd woken up. He could only remember bits and fragments, images and memories he would regret forever. Among those bits and fragments, he could remember feeling Ariadne's hands continually slashing across his face and her fists pounding against his chest. He could also remember her teary, waterlogged screaming at him.

Suddenly, overcome by what he wasn't sure was anger or hatred or what, he pushed her up against the wall, crushing her small form beneath his, feeling each heavy breath she took, feeling her frenzied heartbeat and feeling her chest rise and fall. He raised his fist, still blinded by some sick, primal instinct, and swung at her.

At the last minute, he realized what he was doing, and diverted his fist to the wall, just a few inches from her head.

The sound of wood cracking exploded in the air, followed by the sensation of a thousand splinters puncturing his hand.

_What did I just do? _He thought, staring into Ariadne's red-glazed, wide-open eyes. They were bigger than he had ever seen them before, engorged with shock and horror, and he was unable to look at them so he looked down at the floor instead. He himself felt a wetness accumulating in his eyes. He was crying, damnit... Crying. He had always been Arthur, the stoic point man, cold and calculating, detached and dispassionate. Now he was Arthur, the guy who had punched a hole into the wall out of anger at his girlfriend, the guy who was crying from the realization of the monster he'd become.

"You need to get out of here." He murmured breathlessly. "It's not you... I-I, don't want to hurt you."

* * *

_Okay, this chapter was pretty explosive. By the way, I don't condone physical abuse at all, but I watched the music video for I Love The Way You Lie, and I wanted to try and portray Arthur losing control. I dunno, I just thought it'd be interesting. In the next chapter I plan on including some of his backstory, so that should be interesting. Anyway, tell me what you think._


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note**: Ok, here's the real chapter I meant to put up. Arthur was not supposed to hit Ariadne. I had entertained the idea for a while, but as I thought about it more I realized I didn't really like it. I'm very sorry for the mistake.

**Disclaimer: **Inception is not mine... :'(

* * *

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, feeling more salty tears slide down his face, only to dry up and leave a crusty, salty residue on his skin. Old memories he had tried so hard to repress came flooding back, memories from his childhood. He exhaled, staring blankly at the hole in the wall. That huge, gaping hole in the wall. Hopefully it wouldn't take him long to repair it. He didn't want to see it. It had been so many years since he'd done anything like that. As a child, he had anger management problems. He had been violent and rebellious, and he exploded over the most minute things. It had only been once his father finally couldn't stand him anymore, and he sent him to military school, which had been a living Hell for him. At the same time, it was that living Hell that finally helped him become the stoic, aloof point man he was. The first few years he was there, he hated it. He did everything he could to rebel. He mouthed off to the teachers, he disobeyed them at every chance he got. Of course, things only became worse then. He was forced to run through obstacles during night, in the mud and in the rain. But with each torturous punishment, something happened. He discovered something that truly made him happy- control.

He loved the feeling of being in control of himself, of being the one who was able to keep his school in an argument while his opponent exploded and inevitably ended up doing something they regretted. He learned how to numb his emotions and become driven by goals rather than feelings. He was like an assassin, doing his job and keeping things clean and simple.

Finally, when he graduated, he chose to pursue shared dreaming as a career. At the school, they had used shared dreaming for some of the training exercises. That was the other thing he loved.

Now, he had discovered one more thing he loved.

Ariadne.

* * *

When Arthur got to the warehouse, he was immediately shot dirty looks from all the other male team members. He wasn't surprised at all, but that didn't stop the guilt from getting worse. The glares took him back to memories from military school, when he did something stupid and the whole class ended up getting punished. Except this time he could feel his chest muscles tightening and wrenching with the guilt, unlike in military school, where he would have a smug grin on his face and would even feel slightly proud. No, this time he felt sick. Everytime he felt one of their narrow glares focusing on him, images of the fight flashes through his brain. He would see Ariadne's wide, terrified gaze. He would hear her screams, which were nails on a chalkboard to him. All those images, all those sounds, the sensations, they all reminded him of the fact that he couldn't control himself, that he had was the man who nearly beat his girlfriend out of anger. For the longest time, he had prided himself in his ability to keep his cool and be the one who never lost control. But now he could see that he couldn't, in fact, keep his cool and be the one who never lost control.

As time passed, everyone worked like usual, but almost no one spoke to Arthur. Occasionally Yusuf or Eames might come over and ask him a question, but it was brief and aloof, and they almost never made eye contact except to give him a hostile glare. Even Eames didn't seem as sarcastic and childish as usual. He made no jokes, nothing like that. The air felt static and tense, as if it were a paper-thin sheet of glass that could shatter at any minute. No matter what he did, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized, couldn't shake the feeling that the other team members were thinking _What an asshole _or _Go to Hell_. But the worst offender was Cobb. He seemed to always go out of his way to scowl at him.

It wasn't surprising that Cobb would be the most angry at him. Cobb had always seemed to have a sort of father-daughter relationship with Ariadne in his own way. Ariadne was, after all, almost like his student or daresay protege.

Finally, it was Eames who approached him. For once, he wasn't grinning or even smirking with a certain smugness. In fact, he seemed disgusted, and possibly even disappointed.

"You know, I've never liked you, Arthur. But I did respect you." He said, staring at him with his hands in his pockets. "Now... I can't even imagine why you would do something like that to her."

Arthur's grip clenched. Eames always managed to get under his skin, intentionally and unintentionally. All his mannerisms, his smug behavior, his arrogance, the way he talked, everything. His entire body was tightening in an attempt not to swing at the forger. Couldn't Eames for once, just once, know when not to talk to him. He irritated him so much it was like a blinding, white-hot pain in his brain. He irritated him so much he didn't know what to do. It irritated him to the very core.

"Eames, what goes on between me and Ariadne is none of your concern." Eyes purposely directed away from Eames, he spoke with his teeth gritted and his hands aching from being clenched.

"Oh really? So your hitting Ariadne should be none of my concern?" Eames replied, an eyebrow raised.

"I didn't hit her." Arthur said, clenching his teeth even tighter.

Eames exhaled and rolled his eyes. "She had a fucking bruise when she came in today."

Suddenly it was like an alarm went off.

"What?" He looked at Eames, his heartbeat accelerating to a dizzying rate.

"She had a bruise on her face, asshole." Eames retorted, then narrowed his eyes and walked away.

* * *

Ariadne stared at her totem, feeling as if there was a knife in her throat. The pain was in her chest, too. She sniffled and rubbed her cheek to wipe away all the tears that rolled down her face. By now, she couldn't help but wonder how she had any tears left. She had cried so much lately. It was pretty pathetic to cry like that. All she did was cry. Cried while she ate, cried while she read, cried while she worked, cried while she slept. Cry, cry, cry. Was she capable of doing anything besides crying? _Probably not_, she thought, and the words aroused that sharp feeling in her throat and another waterfall of tears.

There she was, crying again.

She thought of Arthur, and the fight they had. She still wasn't sure what to think of what he did. Part of her was screaming not to take him back. She had heard all kinds of stories about girls who had dated guys who at first seemed like complete angels, but then turned out to be monsters who exploded at the tiniest things. But Arthur didn't act like those guys. That was the first time anything like that ever happened. Sure, they fought so many times she had lost count, but he was always the one who kept his cool, whereas she was the one who screamed and exploded. He was the one who constantly uttered _"Calm down, calm down." _and _"Let's try to talk about this"_, whereas she was the one who replied with _"Calm down? Why the fuck would I calm down?"_.

But now she saw another side of him, with the hole in the wall to rmind her.

Ariadne stared at her reflection in the mirror, watching a glistening tear roll down her cheek. A sheet of blood was trickling slowly down her arm. She knew she should wash it, but she was so tempted to just let it bleed and bleed until she finally lost so much blood that she died. At least then she would wake up. Sure, she wouldn't be with Arthur, but at least she wouldn't have to fight with him anymore. But then that made her wonder if she would miss their fights, their constant ups and downs, their tears and their screams. Because at least they were together then.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, sending a sharp jolt through her body.

Instinctively, she pressed a towel to her cut then rolled down her sleeves. She threw the bloody razor into the trash can and turned on the faucet, watching all the blood dissolve into the water. _He might see it, _She thought, and pushed the trash can behind the counter just to be safe. Quickly, her eyes scanned over the rest of the bathroom to check for any more evidence.

Another knock.

She whipped open the door, to see Arthur standing in front of her.

"I-I just came over to get some of my stuff." She said with a timid, shaking voice, pointing towards the hall.

He nodded quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay."

The rapid thumping in her heart created an ache in her chest. For the first time, she noticed how overpowered she was by him. Dear God, he was tall.

"Ariadne, did I hit you?" He asked suddenly, staring at her with wet eyes. "Please, be honest with me."

Voice shaking and lips trembling, she answered in a small, fragile voice. "No."

* * *

_Whoo! So, here's the eleventh chapter. In his own way, I think that Arthur is kind of a hot mess. I mean, yeah, he may be all reserved and formal, but on the inside I just have this feeling that he's constantly battling all these internal demons from his past. Anyway, tell me what you think. Reviews make me write more. :)_


	12. Author's Note, Please Read

_Author's Note: Hey there. I am so sorry for the false alarm, but I was looking at my reviews and I just realized I posted the wrong version of the last chapter. I don't know what happened, I guess that it just didn't save right or something, but Arthur was not supposed to have hit Ariadne. Originally, that was the plan, but I decided to change it. I wanted Arthur to snap, but not to the point of actually hitting Ariadne (I am extremely against domestic abuse). Once again, I am so sorry for the inconvenience, and I'll try to get the correct chapter up as soon as possible._


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